We passed only a few hundred feet above the giant. He looked up as though confused or annoyed at the sound of our motors. Green cautioned me: "Not too close, Frank! If he ever reached--" That giant hand could have knocked us down into the sea as though we had been a tiny humming insect. We circled, zoomed up a trifle, and came back. The news had spread. There were two other planes here with us now. A confusion was on shore. We could see, far back, figures and vehicles moving in the moonlight. And lights. And far out to sea, there were the lights of a ship. We passed again over the giant. Another plane arrived. Four of us, buzzing like insects over the monstrous figure. It turned suddenly and began wading out to sea. Jones cried: "Look! He's smaller! By George, he is smaller!" The figure did seem less gigantic. Or perhaps it was the deeper water around him. Then suddenly he sank prone and was swimming. The sea was lashed white with his strokes. Swimming for Bird's Nest Island? It seemed so. "Lower, Frank! Take us down!" "Not too close," cautioned Green, for fear he'd stand up again suddenly. We swept under another plane. The swimming giant flung up an arm; a surge of the water mounted like a geyser in the moonlight. His flashing arms and the black blob of his head were visible. He was halfway to the island. Was he still smaller now? Then suddenly he dived. The ocean closed over him. The waves he had made rolled away. The surface was calm, unbroken. We waited. Minutes. He did not come up. The other planes with us swept back and forth, dangerously close to the surface at times. But the giant was gone. We waited half an hour. We crossed over Bird's Nest Island several times. Its tiny rocky peak stood naked in the brilliant moonlight; its trees and shrubbery were deep green; its beach shone clear with the moonlight on it and the calm sea rolling up. No sign of the giant. And then we were ordered to return to Boston. We turned south. We were an hour on our southern flight when Green picked up our call. A message for me. "Your father, Ferrule--he's sent word through headquarters. We're ordered to land at Bennett Field, New York, so you can go to your father and your brother Drake at once." He added: "The exact message--personal, you'll probably understand it--your father says tell you to come at once. He has heard from Dianne." CHAPTER II _The Mysterious Visitor_ This same night that I was flying the patrol, father and Drake spent at our home in a small Westchester town near New York. They knew in what I was engaged. They were frequently connected by telephone with the official Boston station to which Green was making our radio reports. Our Westchester home was an unpretentious cottage, set on a quiet street near the edge of the village. We kept only one servant. She was away this night; Drake and father were alone in the house.